


Echopraxia

by fits_in_frames



Category: Moon (2009)
Genre: M/M, Other, Porn Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-30
Updated: 2010-07-30
Packaged: 2018-01-20 05:29:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1498390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fits_in_frames/pseuds/fits_in_frames
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>echopraxia</b> <i>n.</i> the involuntary imitation of movements made by another</p>
            </blockquote>





	Echopraxia

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Porn Battle X ([original comment](http://oxoniensis.dreamwidth.org/30726.html?thread=4432902#cmt4432902)).

Later, he will think that he dreamt it or hallucinated it or both, but either way, this was all Sam's idea.

Well, clearly, it _had_ to be Sam's idea. Because there was Sam, and there was Sam, and there was GERTY, and GERTY's programming would never in a million years come up with this, and in fact is currently distracted elsewhere. Neither of them could handle the computer standing by, watching but not seeing.

What he means, he thinks as he tightens his grip with one hand (and then the other in his bed sheets, sympathetically), is that it was _Other_ -Sam's idea. New-Sam. Not-Sam, although he supposes that describes both of them perfectly.

*

"Let me suck your cock," Other-Sam said some time after they Figured It Out.

"Why would you want to do that?" he asked, and tugged at the blanket around him, shifting into a more comfortable position in his bed.

"I don't," Other-Sam said, shrugging one shoulder in a way that used to irritate Tess to no end, "but if I were you, I would want my cock sucked."

"You're not me."

"Yes I am. That was my point."

Except he didn't want to think about that. "Fuck you, asshole," he coughed out, choking on the acidity of the insult.

Other-Sam turned as if to leave, but came back before taking a step. "I could jerk you off."

"And how exactly is that any better?" _Either make me come or get out of here,_ he thought with equal parts exhaustion and irritation, hoping Other-Sam would get the message telepathically. He didn't.

"More like masturbation, I figure."

"And blowing me, that wouldn't've been masturbation." He coughed again, tasting salt and smelling copper.

"More like something only achieved by really experienced and perverted yogis--look, can you please just say yes or no?" Other-Sam didn't even take a breath between thoughts. "We aren't exactly made of time."

He paused, left a space for himself to think, but answered, "All right," on impulse, knowing that Other-Sam knew this as he started to walk away, but had chosen not to say anything. "Just, uh--"

"Yeah," Other-Sam said, over his shoulder. "We'll be alone."

-

It was nearly twenty agonizing, wearying minutes before Other-Sam came back. When he finally did, he started to explain, "I told--"

"Don't," he said, waving his hand vaguely. "I don't wanna know."

"Fair enough." Other-Sam stepped forward, hands on his hips, determined. "So, uh. How do we do this?"

"I pull it out, you jack it off, and we go out for ice cream sundaes to celebrate, I don't fucking know," he spat.

"Right, I guess--" Other-Sam moved forward, causing him to reflexively move back, up against the wall "--I guess I should get between your legs."

"Okay," he said, scooting back some more, unbuttoning and unzipping and undoing, so by the time Other-Sam was bridging the gap between his knees, his cock was ready and waiting. Other-Sam bust out with a single, breathy laugh at seeing it. "What?"

"I was just thinking, I'd never wanted to touch another guy's cock before, but then I realized--"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it." He was getting impatient, and not just because Eliza would be there soon.

"Sorry," Other-Sam said, shaking his head. Then, looking up at him, "You still like the thumb thing?"

He laughed in the same way Other-Sam did a moment ago, only in actual amusement instead of realization. "Yeah, I still like the thumb thing."

Other-Sam nodded, spat into his hand, and wrapped his slippery fingers, one by one, around the base of his cock. "You ready?"

"Whenever you are," he said, closing his eyes, trying to think of Tess but before he could, it started.

It was like jerking off with a mirror, like his reflection had simply reached out of the glass: he was intimately familiar with the scars and ridges and nicks and calluses on his hand, but never from angle or this side of his dick. And it felt _amazing_.

But, he thought after a minute or two, something was different--something was _missing_. He braced himself on the bed with one hand, ghosted the other over Other-Sam's, trying to guide his double into the right rhythm, the right spot, trying to correct for three years' worth of nuances.

"No," he gasped, opening his eyes. He didn't actually want to stop but he could only think of one way to get what he wanted. "Get your dick out."

Other-Sam opened his eyes, too, coming out of the other half of the same almost-dream. "What?"

"We don't have time for this. I need to show you. Get your dick out." It wasn't meant to be an order, but it sure sounded like one. Other-Sam didn't seem to mind, peeling back layers without another word.

He held his hand up to Other-Sam's mouth, and Other-Sam spat on it without being asked. Either the telepathy was starting to work, or he was just that obvious (and he chose to believe the former). He wrapped his fingers around Other-Sam's cock, which wasn't hard yet, but was warm enough that it would be soon, and with all the strength left in his arm, started to pull in long, slow, single strokes from base to head, base to head. Other-Sam groaned in the back of his throat, and moved his own hand in the same way.

"Yes," he said and increased his speed; Other-Sam did the same a moment later. _Like jerking off with a time-delayed mirror_ , he corrected his previous thought.

"God," Other-Sam moaned, "where the fuck did you learn that?"

"It's fucking boring up here," he gasped between shallow breaths, feeling the exhaustion within him being beaten up by arousal. There was a little heat in his cheeks, and the hairs on his arms were standing up from something other than chills. He was close, and he could feel that Other-Sam was close, so he tightened his grip and thought how Other-Sam wasn't really Other-Sam, that they were both Other-Sam and Not-Sam, and how glad he was that GERTY was gone.

*

He remembers the first time he did it this way, how hard and fast he came, and Other-Sam tries his best not to cry out when he does so, although he fails pretty miserably. It only takes him a few more seconds to finish, and Other-Sam's hand hasn't even left yet when he does.

Other-Sam starts, "That--"

"Yeah," he finishes, trying to catch his breath. When finally he does, he says, "I just saved you a shitload of experimentation." He feels a coughing fit coming on before he can choke out a sarcastic _you're welcome_ , but Other-Sam smirks a little as he cleans them both up, and he really, really thinks the telepathy angle is correct.


End file.
